


Just Like Old Times

by lost_stickie_note, nineofcupsnpc



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Creamsoup, Fluff, M/M, NongJing, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 23:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17838086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineofcupsnpc/pseuds/nineofcupsnpc
Summary: It’s been a few years since Nongnong last saw Zhangjing in person, and everything feels different yet somehow just the same.✧ ✧ ✧Prompt:#40: "Months after NPC disbandment, You Zhangjing finds himself soul-searching in Kaohsiung, Nongnong's hometown. Nongnong takes him on a date through the night markets and a boat ride on the Kaohsiung River. Their date ends with them sitting riverside, a couple of beers in their system. Turns out, a tipsy Zhangjing  has a lot of feelings to let out.""Come to me when you get older."""





	Just Like Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, so excited to be participating in my first ever fic fest! And so glad that I finally got around to writing something for Cream Soup aka NongJing. They are the sweetest, and I hope everyone enjoys! ♡ 
> 
> Shameless plug for all my other works~~
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reader. :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote) for updates, randomness, etc. or to scream about Zhangjun, my DMs are always open.
> 
> Comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!

Nongnong squints, his hand reaching up to block out the sunlight glaring off the wall to wall windows, looking out at the spacious blue sky, the sight of the airplane come closer to touch down on the tarmac. He’s not sure what to feel or even  _ how  _ to feel, the nervous energy strumming through his body like a wave gathering momentum before it crashes and spills over, his muscles tensed trying to hold it back. It’s been a while, a while since everyone had dissipated to their different paths, a time that seemed like forever until it passed, a fleeting blip in the fullness of his life. And he’s not sure whether he knows how to act anymore with the older boy, whether it’s been so long that the closeness they once had would be forgotten.

 

Zhangjing looks smaller than he remembered coming out of the gate to meet him, his tiny form hunched over, the hat pulled low over his eyes, the mask and sunglasses covering the entirety of his face. The older boy looks dwarfed without the mass of fans that would usually be surrounding him, and he has to clamp down the urge to run up immediately and sweep Zhangjing into a huge hug. He waits until the older boy sidles up to him, and Nongnong slips his hand into Zhangjing’s without saying another word.

 

_ I want to disappear for a bit. _

 

Nongnong had readily agreed when Zhangjing had sent him the message a few months ago. So they had made arrangements in secret, set aside time from their busy schedule to sneak away in hopes that nobody would find out. In hindsight, it was a rash decision, but he hadn’t given even a second thought to it, the prospect of seeing the other boy again making his whole being ache.  _ We used to be so close.  _ Nongnong remembers the times they spent together, at first a marriage of convenience, only sharing Yanjun in common. But it had gradually grown into a familiarity that kept him sane when he missed his family, missed home, and the older boy would let him curl up on his bed while he sang Nongnong all the songs he loved growing up. Or the times he had held out his hand, reaching out for Zhangjing, a comforting presence to fall asleep to, just a reminder that someone was  _ there _ with him.

 

Zhangjing’s hand still feels the same.

 

Nongnong leads the older boy around quickly, setting a brisk pace making his way towards the exit, and he realizes with a shock that their roles have switched, used to being the one following Zhangjing. It’s an odd sensation, but the older boy lets it happen, the sound of his single carry-on suitcase against the floor rolling behind him. He navigates them through the crowd, keeping his head down to avoid recognition, and he sighs in relief as the make it out without being bothered, no one looking twice.  _ It’s nice to feel invisible sometimes.  _ They’re making their way across the parking lot towards the rental vehicles with Nongnong scanning the cars for the correct license plate number, fishing the keys out of his pocket with his free hand, the older boy still grasping firmly onto his left.

 

A small triumphant ‘aha’, and the car makes its confirmatory noise back at them, the headlights blinking. “You can throw your suitcase in the back.” Nongnong lets go of Zhangjing’s hand to open the door, intending to climb in.

 

Even the older boy’s voice is smaller than he remembered. “You can drive?” Zhangjing pipes up in surprise, and Nongnong can almost see the older boy’s eyes widening behind the large sunglasses. He had been about to get into the driver’s seat by habit, the feeling of independence that came with driving himself at home irreplaceable. “Yeah, I do.” Nongnong holds out the keys, unsure. “Did you want to though?”

 

Zhangjing shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine. You know the area better than I do.” The older boy pauses for a beat too long. “I just didn’t even know you had your license.”

 

Nongnong isn’t sure how he should respond, so he doesn’t.

 

The car ride to the hotel is mostly silent, the older boy peering out the windows at the surroundings, taking in the sight of Kaohsiung, the city whipping by as they drive past. Zhangjing has finally taken off the hat and the sunglasses, the face Nongnong remembers looking outside in wonder. The older boy’s hair is still as soft-looking as before, a bouncy cloud of cotton candy fluff, and before he can stop himself, he’s running his fingers through Zhangjing’s hair like old times, the other boy paying him no mind. Nongnong sneaks another look at the other boy, Zhangjing’s cheeks a little hollower than the Zhangjing in his memory, and his heart aches as he remembers the nights sneaking the older boy extra food, insisting that he eat it. Zhangjing had refused the first few times, but eventually Nongnong couldn’t take it anymore.  _ Ge, just eat it. Your stomach is growling.  _ The older boy had been reluctant still but fortunately Nongnong was more persistent. 

 

It was one of the few times he had ever put his foot down when it came to Zhangjing.

 

The older boy turns to look at him, and Nongnong feels a strange twinge in his chest. It’s like looking back into the past at his younger self, and he wonders how someone can be so close and so important to him yet be nowhere to be found after just a few years afterwards. They had texted each other in the aftermath, even replying on each other’s Weibo posts, and for a while they had even video chatted once every so often. But those small moments had gradually gotten to be less and less, dwindled down to long stretches of silence months in between.

 

Nongnong is relieved that the older boy’s smile is still the same, his bunny teeth winking at him in a huge grin. “Your city looks nice, Nongnong.”

 

Zhangjing’s voice is soft and gentle, and it makes his chest tighten.  _ I’ve missed you.  _ And he knows that it’s true, but the words that won’t come out, stuck tight in his throat as he struggles to find the right thing to say emphasize just how much. “Thanks.” And Nongnong wants to kick himself afterwards when that’s the only word he can produce, the platitude sounding empty even to his own ears, but Zhangjing nods back in understanding and it makes him feel a bit better.

 

Nongnong parks the rental car in the lot and helps Zhangjing grab his suitcase, the unassuming black luggage clearly beat up around the edges, a few scratches into the hard plastic and a lot lighter than he would have guessed. Through the side door, past the lobby with their heads down, one elevator and six floors up, and finally, he lets out a sigh of relief at not being spotted. “Where do you want the suitcase? And the keycards?”

 

Zhangjing grabs one of the key cards from his hand and points to the corner with the other. “I’ll keep one, and you keep the other? Thanks.” The older boy flops on one of the beds in a heap. “God, I’m tired. I couldn’t sleep at all last night before going to the airport.”

 

He rolls the suitcase over to the corner, and when he turns around, Zhangjing is looking at him with a mischievous expression, sitting up with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed closer to the window. “What?”

 

“I have an idea.”

 

Nongnong looks back at him questioningly.

 

“Let’s push the beds together.” He’s about to open his mouth to object, not wanting to move the bedside table in the middle out of the way, but he is stopped by the pleading expression on Zhangjing’s face. “Like old times?”

 

The lump rises up in his throat thinking about those times, some of the best months of his life. “Okay, Zhangjing. Just like old times.”

 

It takes a bit of teamwork to move the bedside table out of the way, shunted off to the corner of the room, but voila, after some time and extra grunting, the two beds are next to each other forming one wide expanse of white. Zhangjing curls up on the bed, legs tucked close to his body, head sinking deep into the fluffed hotel pillows. The urge to hug the other boy rises up, and this time, Nongnong doesn’t hold back, climbing onto the bed to fill up the emptiness beside Zhangjing. The older boy is half asleep already, his eyelids dropping, long lashes fluttering to keep him awake as he looks at Nongnong. Zhangjing’s words come out in a low murmur, so quiet that Nongnong almost doesn’t catch it. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“I’ve missed you too.” He wonders if Zhangjing heard him at all, the older boy not responding, his eyes fully closed. Nongnong lies down facing Zhangjing, tracing the curves of the older boy’s face, his cheeks, nose, and lips, watching Zhangjing’s chest rise and fall with each breath. The thoughts tumble around in his head, a muddle of memories, hopes, and dreams unleased from the depths of his mind as he watches. He doesn’t remember drifting off into sleep, just the faint glimmers of a last thought.

 

_ Maybe he dreams of me too. _

 

* * *

 

_ Nongnong. _

 

The voice is coming from far away, an echo cast from an empty room, a distant sound of familiarity. Made of tireless hours of dance practice until his muscles ached, long sleepless nights of filming fueled only by coffee and desperation, warm nights being fed food that tasted like love and caring, cold days with hands stuffed into jacket pockets, comforting embraces lasting forever and another day.

 

_ Nongnong. _

 

He wakes up to Zhangjing shaking his shoulder gently, the older boy’s hair slightly damp from the shower, a new set of clothes thrown on. “Nongnong, do you want to take a shower too?” With a shock, he notices the darkness in the room, the shadows on the wall. “How long have we been asleep?”

 

Zhangjing checks his phone, the bright screen causing him to blink rapidly. “A few hours, give or take.” The older boy pauses. “I was thinking we could grab some dinner really quick.”

 

He nods readily, his stomach agreeing at a timely moment, the growl easily heard in the afterbeat of silence. “Dinner sounds great right now.” His voice comes out in a croak, throat dry from sleep, and he clears it before continuing. “Do you have anything in mind?”

 

The older boy looks at him blankly. “Not really. I was hoping you would show me around to your favorite places. It is your home afterall.” The word home feels odd coming from Zhangjing. Because maybe it doesn’t quite feel like home anymore, his schedule bouncing him from one place to another, a constant shifting that never stops, even the breaks in between with a purpose. And it’s been so long since home for him was defined by a  _ place _ , instead the feeling of belonging engulfing him only when he’s with certain people. Because that is what a home is to him now, and maybe it hurts a little when he thinks about the fact that Zhangjing used to be his home.

 

_ But now he’s not. _

 

The longing for something he doesn’t really understand takes hold of him, and he forces himself to form words that he does know the meaning of instead. “Let’s go eat.” It’s something safe to say, something he knows well, the older boy reaching out to grab his hand.

 

Nongnong watches with fascination as the lights dance over Zhangjing’s hair like a halo, little pinpricks of color from the lanterns that line the stalls up and down the street. The effect makes the shorter boy feel like a character that’s not quite real, a passing dream, but Zhangjing  _ is  _ real, the older boy’s arm linked through his, sticking to him closely as they walk through the crowded marketplace. Zhangjing’s head swivels around curiously at all the sights around them, the fragrant smell of different delicious foods enveloping them. And he feels his heart beat faster when once in a while someone gets too close, the older boy pressing up against him, Zhangjing’s cheek against his arm. Nongnong looks down when he feels the tug on his sleeve, holding in a breath at seeing Zhangjing stare up, all inquisitive eyes and puffed out cheeks, lips a bright streak of red against his pale skin, two rosebuds of pink forming in his cheeks. 

 

“Are you cold?” Nongnong asks, alarmed seeing the tiny puffs of air coming out of the older boy’s mouth. He had forgotten that it could get colder at night, the reminder for Zhangjing to bring a light jacket slipping his mind as they left the hotel. It’s dark now, the sun having long set, the brightness of an almost-full moon illuminating the street, not able to compete with the light from the lanterns. He hadn’t even considered the temperature himself, the warmth from the older boy beside him just enough to chase away any shivers. “I have an extra jacket in the car. I can go get it-“ And he’s pulling away to turn back so he can keep Zhangjing warm and safe from the nippy air, but the older boy’s grip on his arm keeps him from leaving.

 

“I’m fine.” The lower lip bite makes him wonder if Zhangjing is lying, the uncomfortable feeling tightening in his stomach at the memory of the older boy holding in all his problems until they finally burst open in an uncontrollable torrent. Ending up so feverish and sick that they had to rush him to the hospital after fainting. Not leaving Zhangjing’s bedside and listening to the older boy utter nonsense in his dreams and needing to reassure him that nothing was his fault during Zhangjing’s one lucid moment. He had turned to Nongnong and whispered that he didn’t want to hold back the group, instead preferring to keep quiet about being sick.  _ Never, you could never, Zhangjing.  _ He had repeated it over and over, willing the older boy to believe it.

 

Nongnong forgot how much it hurt to see the other boy hurting. But Zhangjing’s lit-up smile is reassuring, the widened eyes and bunny teeth, as he catches sight of the stall with the skewers. The shorter boy points excitedly, tugging on his arm as he exclaims. “I want that first.” And Nongnong lets himself be dragged towards the stall, Zhangjing’s enthusiasm bringing a smile to his face.  _ Just like old times.  _ The feeling of the older boy insisting that they eat together, insisting on feeding him when they filmed Perfect Restaurant, the little actions making the happiness bloom in his chest each time.

 

“Auntie, can we have two skewers?” He holds up two fingers, his other hand digging in his pocket for his wallet. The pout immediately graces Zhangjing’s face, his lower lip jutting out cutely, his attempt to hide it from Nongnong with his hand up, unsuccessful. He relents. “Sorry,  _ three _ skewers.” He smiles to himself and pretends not to see as Zhangjing glances sneakily at him.

 

The lady smiles at them as she accepts Nongnong’s money, the few bills clutched in her hand, handing over the skewers to Zhangjing with the other. “Hi Nongnong, I’ve never seen you bring anyone around here. A  _ special  _ friend?” The lady gives Nongnong a pointed look, making Zhangjing turn red, the blush very obviously tinting the older boy’s cheeks. And Nongnong can feel himself starting to flush too, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his mouth seemingly dry all of a sudden.

 

“Just a friend.” He mumbles, not daring to look at Zhangjing for fear of seeing something he doesn’t want to know. His heart doesn’t stop racing until they walk away, and Nongnong is thankful that the other boy doesn’t say anything further.

 

_ But is he? _

 

A special friend.

 

Zhangjing  _ is  _ special to him.

 

But Nongnong doesn’t want to think about what that means.

 

“Nongnong.” He turns to face Zhangjing when he feels the tap on his shoulder, the older boy saying his name in a drawn-out breath, the end trailing off into a wisp of a word. Zhangjing holds up the skewer to his mouth, an expectant look on his face. “Eat.” He awkwardly tilts his head in order to take a bite, the piece of meat juicy and warm still, delicious and filling. He’s reminded of a time when Zhangjing feeding him was an everyday thing, a semi-careless gesture that felt natural and effortless.

 

“Here, let me.” Nongnong takes the skewers from Zhangjing, holding out one for the older boy to take a bit. The laugh comes out unbidden as Zhangjing chomps down fully, biting off more than he can chew, his cheeks puffing out into an overstuffed bun-like expression. The other boy tries to rearrange his face into an affronted look but the food prevents him from doing so, which just makes Nongnong laugh harder.

 

He dabs at the corners of Zhangjing’s mouth with a napkin, amused, reminded of the days when he’d see  _ this  _ Zhangjing all the time. But now, now it is a rare occurrence, something he needs to capture in his memory before he forgets.  _ Let’s stay forever like this.  _ The fondness makes the tears burn the back of his eyes, and he quickly blinks them away so Zhangjing can’t see. “Bubble tea?”

 

“Yeah.” The older boy lets out a small gasp when Nongnong intertwines their fingers, grasping on tightly and holding on with everything he has, leading the boy over to their next target. Three stalls later, and Nongnong is appropriately stuffed to the brim, Zhangjing’s empty bubble tea in his free hand, the older boy sipping on the rest of Nongnong’s bubble tea, making loud slurping noises as he sucks up the bubbles. He would never stop marveling at how much food the other boy seemed to be able to inhale almost on will, Zhangjing insist that they walk around to every stall at least to see  _ all the options  _ before choosing. And even though they had only eaten “officially” at three stalls, a few of the aunties had recognized Nongnong and cooed upon seeing Zhangjing, insisting that they take samples.

 

The last auntie had become so involved and animated in recounting an embarrassing story from his childhood that she nearly knocked over one of the jars on her counter, with Nongnong catching it just in time. He had stood there in, flushed and mortified as Zhangjing laughed delightedly at all the right parts in the story. She had waved goodbye at them with a  _ come again _ , extracting a promise from Zhangjing to visit another time as Nongnong shoos the other boy away.

 

Zhangjing hums happily beside him as they walk, a bit too softly for Nongnong to make out the melody but just loud enough to invoke a sense of familiarity that he can’t quite place. “Is there anything else that we can do right now?” The voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and Nongnong thinks quickly, not wanting the night to end yet. He hesitantly pitches the idea, unsure of whether Zhangjing will agree. “We can take a boat ride.”

 

“On the river?”

 

“Yeah.” Nongnong points into the distance, the little orbs of light seemingly floating about the water of the river in the darkness. “They have lanterns on the boats.” He feels Zhangjing’s hand squeeze his tightly, leaning slightly into him, and Nongnong remembers that even though Zhangjing hates there being light when he sleeps, the older boy actually is somewhat scared of the dark. Something he didn’t know until they filmed Perfect Restaurant, Zhangjing snuggling in closer to him the first night, close enough that he could hear the other boy’s heart beating far too quickly.

 

“It’s a fun experience, but we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Nongnong says gently, patting the top of Zhangjing’s head. “I’m here to do whatever  _ you  _ want to do, remember?”

 

Zhangjing takes a few seconds to make up his mind, eventually squaring his chin and crossing his arms over his chest in a petulant stance. “No, let’s do it.”

 

_ Always ready to take on the world. _

 

Nongnong leads the older boy down to the water’s edge, where the boats are tied, making sure to step carefully on the rickety staircase going down, making sure to go slowly for Zhangjing’s sake. “Do you two want some before going out on the water?” He turns at the sound of the old man’s voice, the vendor holding out a few cans of beer for them, eager to make another sale. “Ice cold and cheap right now.” The few moments of hesitation is all the man needs to push a few cans into Zhangjing’s arms who accepts it, startled. Nongnong hands over the money in resignation, thanking the man before leaving.

 

It takes a few minutes for Nongnong to barter, managing to lower the price for the boat ride as Zhangjing stands quietly by his side. The boat is heavier than he expected, and Nongnong is grateful when Zhangjing helps him push, the edge of the boat just barely teetering on his fingertips as he lets the older boy climb in first. It rocks slightly when he joins Zhangjing, who clutches the sides tightly, his knuckles gleaming white in the darkness. The older boy doesn’t interrupt as he starts paddling, the oars dipping into the water smoothly, creating ripples across the surface. And they start moving at a slow, measured pace, further and further away from the starting point, the lantern on the boat lighting up Zhangjing’s features, the only thing Nongnong can really see. It reminds him of the time that Zhangjing couldn’t figure out how to row a boat properly, resulting in him doing the bulk of the work, amused at older boy’s confusion. He hadn’t minded though, and the memory now brings a smile to his face.

 

“What are you smiling about?”

 

“Oh, nothing.”

 

The river is familiar to Nongnong, and he lets the moments pass by in silence as he moves them further down to a spot he knows well, a secret inlet where they can drag the boat ashore and sit for a while. Everything is quiet on the river, the noise from the night market fading away, and now the moon is more visible, no longer drowned out by the lights lining the streets, the reflection painting a distorted circle on the water. Zhangjing seems lost in thought, and Nongnong tudis the older boy’s face as he rows, sinking in the details of the older boy into his memory, rewriting over the past ones.

 

They finally reach the destination, and Nongnong hops out first, shivering slightly as he feels the water seeping into his shoes, soaking him up to his ankles, cold and uncomfortable. Before he can reach out a hand for Zhangjing to perhaps save the older boy from the water, the other boy jumps out too, landing beside him and sending up a small splash of water that gets them both wet. Nongnong laughs at Zhangjing’s exclamations, the cold shock making the older boy dissolve into his native language in what Nongnong can only assume is a barrage of swears. He kicks off his shoes and starts rolling up the cuffs of his jeans, lining them up neatly on the dock, the older boy following suit, Zhangjing’s shoes a small heap next to his.

 

The older boy sits down next to him, and Nongnong feels the lump rise up in his throat as he sees Zhangjing’s legs swinging off the dock, feet not quite touching the water like his are. He’s not sure what it is. Sadness? Fondness? Memories of them spending days lazing around together pop up in his head, the image of Zhangjing’s legs next to his, him joking that the other boy was past the age of getting any taller and being hit playfully as Zhangjing’s temper flared. But their feet look ghostly next to each other, pale in the moonlight.

 

The sound of a can being popped open startles him out of his reverie, and Nongnong grabs one of the beers in response, watching Zhangjing take a long first gulp of his. The beer is a sweeter one than he expected, the taste of hot summer days lingering on his tongue. “I didn’t know you drank.” Nongnong can barely make out the surprise etched on Zhangjing’s face in the darkness, but he can hear it in the older boy’s voice, the telltale lilt upwards in intonation.

 

“I started a while ago.”

 

“You never used to.”

 

“Well, things change.”

 

His voice comes out more heated than he intends, and Nongnong wishes he can take it back. But Zhangjing’s hand finds his in the dark, curling around his hand in forgiveness.  _ We changed.  _ And even though Zhangjing is next to him, and all he should be thinking about is this moment, the feeling of missing the other boy burns so sharply in his chest that he can’t breathe. Missing a time where he could be assured to find Zhangjing next to him if he wanted to see the other boy, when he didn’t have to wait potentially for days for Zhangjing to respond to texts, days just to receive an  _ I’m fine  _ to a  _ how are you _ , missing when their conversations flowed naturally without missing a beat in between bites of food fed back and forth. And maybe he doesn’t just miss how they  _ were _ but is also scared of what they  _ are _ , an uncertainty looming in between them that didn’t exist before.

 

“I’ve missed you.”

 

Zhangjing’s simple words make the tears prick the back of his eyes.

 

“Yanjun misses you too by the way.”

 

Nongnong blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Zhangjing pauses to peer up at him, the older boy’s eyes shining brightly. “I wanted to. It’s just been difficult.”

 

He doesn’t respond, letting the silence sit in the air.

 

Zhangjing sighs, the puff taking everything out of him, his shoulders hunched forward while balancing on his hands pressed firmly to the dock, making the older boy look small, very small. “…I don’t know.” The older boy gives him a sidelong glance. “When we first debuted as Nine Percent, I thought I had finally achieved my dream of becoming a singer. We had  _ made it _ , you know? All I’ve ever wanted to do is sing on stage.” Zhangjing pauses. “It’s still everything I want to do, I think.”

 

The gust of wind makes the older boy shiver, and Nongnong automatically moves closer so that he can wrap his arm around Zhangjing, pulling the smaller boy in tightly against his body. “Thanks.” Nongnong watches as the other boy finishes off the first can of beer, tilting his head back to down it quickly, and reaching out to open a second can, taking another large swig. “There’s just so much  _ other  _ stuff that goes along with being an idol, and, and-“

 

He’s alarmed when he hears the sob from Zhangjing, the other boy burying his head into Nongnong’s chest, the effort making the smaller boy shake, the vibration running up his arm. He isn’t sure what to do so he settles for gently stroking Zhangjing’s back, trying to calm the older boy. Zhangjing dissolves into sniffles and mumbles something into his shirt. “I’m sorry, Nongnong. I didn’t mean to dump this all on you.” Zhangjing detaches himself from Nongnong, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as Nongnong watches.

 

“Don’t be. I’m here for you.” The words come out fiercely, and Nongnong desperately tries to convey to Zhangjing how much he actually  _ means it _ because he’s not sure the older boy believes him. Because why else would Zhangjing just say he’s fine over text when he’s clearly  _ not fine _ . And it makes Nongnong sick to his stomach thinking of Zhangjing keeping it all in, keeping it all to himself until grows to be too much to handle, the emotion spilling out of the smaller boy in a huge crashing wave.

 

“I’m just-“ Zhangjing sniffles again. “So  _ tired _ . Tired of trying all the time. Tired of having to keep up with all our schedules. Tired of having to put in more and more of myself without getting enough back.” The older boy falls quiet for a moment, and Nongnong traces the light on Zhangjing’s face, cutting across his nose and over one cheek. “I’m just tired and a bit lost, I think.”

 

“I can barely remember what it feels like to be  _ excited _ about everything. Like when we first started, and everything was so new to us.” Zhangjing laughs. “Remember when we went to Disneyland in L.A.? That was my first time there. Everything felt like a dream. Or when we joined Perfect Restaurant? I never thought we’d be on a show trying to cook for people. And our first album.” Zhangjing reaches out for his hand again, and Nongnong’s breath catches as their fingers intertwine. “It was so bittersweet. Thinking of how we had made something so precious together but also how everything was temporary and so fleeting.”

 

Zhangjing looks at him with a tearful expression. “I wanted to come see you. I really did.” The older boy lets out a small gasp of surprise when Nongnong swipes his thumbs over Zhangjing’s cheeks to wipe away the tears.

 

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.”

 

The smaller boy shakes his head, regaining his composure, the cracked smile painted on his face, and it hurts Nongnong to see how the edges don’t quite turn up the way they used to, with the ease they used to. “Well, regardless, I’m glad I came to visit.” Zhangjing’s voice is hesitant. “Maybe…maybe in a few more years, you can come find me again.” The unspoken question hovers in the air as the night holds its breath.

 

“A few more years?” The words sound thick and unwieldy in his mouth, and Nongnong can feel every bit of him rejecting the idea of not seeing Zhangjing for a  _ few more years.  _

 

And maybe this is what dying feels like.

 

“Yeah, you’re still so tireless and really enjoying being an idol, aren’t you?” Zhangjing pauses. “I follow all your social media.” The older boy smiles at him, a smile tinged with sadness. “You look like you’re having fun still. So maybe in a few years…”

 

“No.”

 

The objection surprises both of them, and it takes a few seconds for Nongnong to find his next words.

 

“I’m not letting you leave me.”

 

Zhangjing opens his mouth to protest.

 

“ _ Again. _ ”

 

Zhangjing’s eyes widen in surprise, his mouth snapped closed. And Nongnong leans closer to the older boy, close enough that his nose bumps into the other boy’s, nudging him gently.  _ Closer.  _ Nongnong can smell the alcohol on Zhangjing’s breath now, close enough that all he can think about is that they’re breathing the same air, the gap in between them too small to measure yet too big to fathom. And all he wants to do is make Zhangjing understand why he just  _ can’t _ .

 

Can’t wait another few years to see the other boy again. Can’t bear to be the last to find out that Zhangjing fainted on stage in the middle of a performance, only seeing the news on Weibo. Can’t stop himself from missing Zhangjing every time he goes out for hotpot. Can’t help but text Yanjun to ask whether Zhangjing is okay every time the other boy doesn’t respond quickly enough. Can’t let go of the ache that comes back every time he hears Zhangjing’s voice on a playlist full of the other boy’s songs on his phone.

 

The older boy tastes like a mixture of sadness, happiness, regret, contentment, anger, familiarity.

 

Like his everything.


End file.
